Broken Wings, Scattered Dust

Nothing Left but Dreams and Lies

Rain continued to pound down for several hours.  I was beyond soaked and beyond caring; I found the canopy-hidden clearing, plopped myself down on the dewy grass, closed my eyes, and before I knew it, night had fallen.  The leaves above me were still rustling in the wind and rain, but one patch of stars that poked through the cloud cover kept blinking in and out of view, a fact that soldiered through my exhaustion and incessantly prodded me until I shouted at the void.

“Hey,” I said blearily, voice almost lost in the rain.  “Stop blocking the stars.”

The void shifted slightly after a moment.  “Holy crap, someone’s awake.”

“Quiet, you.”  Sleep weighed down my eyelids, but I kept them open.  I was still soaking wet, but Descant’s...request kindled a tiny fire in my chest that could not be doused.  I finally had a real chance to do something genuinely good—though just the thought of labeling it 'redemption' left a disgustingly bitter taste in my mouth.  “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

Whimsy huffed indignantly but said no more, and with her silent again, sleep easily overtook me once more.  It was still raining.

— « § » —

I awoke to the early threads of birdsong, winding their way through the upper branches, intertwining with the dawn’s sunbeams, and for a while, I just lay there, watching a tiny regiment of ants march their way past minefield of dewdrops.  Nature never ceases to amaze.

They followed each other in a single, unbroken line, and after a bit of weaving in and out of exposed roots, they reached what I recognized as a vanilla orchid, undoubtedly for the plant’s sugary treat.  The flower had the same soft, sweet scent as it always did; I reached out and plucked one—without ants on it—inhaling deeply.  I never could explain it, but the fragrance had always been one of my favorites, a sentiment the forest apparently shared; I heard it, felt it breathe as I did.

I picked up a small pebble and tossed it upwards, and as I’d suspected, it hit something that was not wood.  “Nice try,” I said without looking up.

“Phoo,” said a hidden Whimsy, dropping out of the branches and landing clumsily on the forest floor.  “I give up.”

“Well sorr-ee.  I can’t help it, and I think it’s good I can’t.”

“I know,” she said dejectedly, and she started kicking dew off the undergrowth.  I returned to our designated tree, pulled on my goggles, and located the small cavity where we’d stored our food and belongings.  As I shrugged off the sheathed blade, Whimsy appeared behind me with little more than a whisper to announce her presence.

“Here.”  I gave her a couple of apples, which she took up and nibbled on, leaning against a tree.  Mine didn’t last nearly as long—hunger’d gotten the jump on me this time.  “So,” I began, but Whimsy interrupted, sounding profoundly disappointed.

“He had another job for you.”

“Not exactly,” I said, knowing the phrase’s ambiguity would stop her from complaining.  “He gave me something to do, but he’s not paying me for it.  Hang on.”  I put a hoof on the sword, which she’d been sidling towards.  “Lemme finish first.”

“Aww, o-kay.”  She went back to gnawing at the apples with a new effort to pout at the same time.  The end result was difficult to not laugh at.

I forced my face to stay straight.  “Descant says the dragons are dying.”

Whimsy didn’t even look up.  “So he wants you to...”

“Find this Goddess.  Luc....Luci...”

“Lucifa.”  Whimsy’s head tilted, her sightless eyes drifting to the side.  “Their Goddess, and if the ancients aren’t completely off their rocker, our true Goddess, too.”

I scoffed.  “Our Goddess?  Last I checked, it was Celestia and Luna that cycle day and night and keep Equestria in order, not some flighty...whatever she is.”

“She’s an alicorn, just like the Princesses,” she retorted angrily, brows furrowed into a sharp V that looked so much like my own mane that I almost burst out laughing.  “Prin.  Cess.”

“Sure.”  The word sounded as nonchalant as usual, the noncommital yes coming through in all its nebulous glory.  “Sure,” I repeated.  Celestia and Luna might raise the sun and moon, but any respect I had for them was severely dulled by two facts; first, they had legions of guards when they’re clearly more than capable of protecting themselves, and second, none of their agents had caught me.

Whimsy’s head tilted in her little withering way, a gesture that left no doubt as to what her expression would be if she wasn’t blindfolded.

“Look,” I said calmly.  “If they catch me, I’ll call them Princess, but until that day, no thanks.”

She stuck her tongue out at me.  “Suurre.”

“Anywho.  We’ve got to go to this shrine north of here; a few days’ flight, so probably about a week on lan—”

I stopped abruptly as a very distinctly unnatural sound of rustling leaves reached me, punctuated by soft, earthen thuds, and Whimsy cocked her ears, too.  “I’ll bet you a hundred bits I can get us there faster,” she said between the thuds, which had grown almost imperceptibly louder and were now visibly rustling the nearby branches.  I tensed reflexively, but my mind stayed relaxed; Whimsy could identify threats further away than I could, and she was merrily climbing the trees once again, the sword strapped snugly to her back.  I scooped up the compass before she could fall on it.

“I’ll take that bet,” said a familiar voice, slow, deep, measured, and Descant emerged from the trees.  I found I wasn’t surprised at all to see him, but he didn’t seem all that surprised to see me accompanied by a blindfolded unicorn, either...

“Nice to see you, too,” I said dryly.

“Same.”  He inclined his head, then turned to Whimsy, who cut him off.

“No fair,” she pouted.  “I didn’t offer it to you.”

“Neither was the sword intended for you,” Descant pointed out, brows fractionally raised in irritation.  Whimsy wasn’t cowed in the least.

“She ain’t gonna use it,” she pouted.  “And it—looks cool.”

I frowned and Descant bowed deeply, but I wiped the frown off my face before he rose again.  “Thank you,” he said.  “If she has no complaints, then neither do I.”

“I’m right here,” I grumbled.  “But yeah, I’m not gonna use it.”  He didn’t need to know about my garrote, although I wasn’t sure how much use it’d be against him anyways, if the need for that ever arose.  Whimsy might as well learn how to properly defend herself with something besides her magic, and even I had to admit, she looked much more threatening than normal with the sword, albeit in a very peculiar way.  Almost...profound.

Descant turned to me.  “I apologize, but my presence to you has always seemed as dust in the wind.”  His expression hardened, crystallized, somehow transparent yet unreadable.  “A nuisance.”

“I’ve a lot on my mind,” I told him.  “And not much time to contemplate it.”

“Ah.”  He took another colossal breath, and for a while, didn’t speak.  I watched the morning dew drip from the canopy, a feeble shadow of last night’s downpour.  “I cannot fathom your mind, Forbearer,” he said evenly.

“What, and I can fathom yours?”

Descant peered down at me carefully.  “I should think not.”

We stared at each other.

“All right, all right, break it up.”  Whimsy dropped down between us, stumbling slightly on the undergrowth but managing to stay upright.  She was getting better, I had to admit.  Maybe all the treetop frolicking was actually doing her some good.   “Time’sa wastin’,” she said to Descant.

“Perhaps.”  The dragon flattened himself on the ground, and Whimsy clambered up onto his back, forelegs feeling around for Descant’s spikes.  I hesitated, then climbed up behind her, silently grateful.  We would’ve lost a lot of time had we gone on hoof or if I’d tried to fly us there.

“Apologies,” Descant said again, unfurling two massive, leathery wings. “I meant to offer to fly you yesterday.”

“Forgot?”  I cinched the saddlebags around my stomach and double-checked the clasps as Descant took off.  Quite gracefully, considering his wingspan.  I tucked the ends of Whimsy’s blindfold in before they started slapping me.

“I...”

“No, no,” Whimsy reprimanded me.  “It’s pronounced thank you.”

“That goes without saying.”

She ignored me.   “Why, thank you, Descant,” she simpered.  “Ever so kind of you to help us along and save a week of our time.”

“Thank me when I get you there alive.”

“Oh,” said Whimsy.  “Well then.  I guess I can live without a limb or two.”

I got the feeling Descant would have stared her down had he been able to look backwards.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he said, completely serious.

“Explain,” I said sharply.

Whimsy held a hoof out, letting the slipstream beat against it.  “Savior of the Dragons is a pretty impressive title, don’cha think?  And it’d be a pretty nice section in a history book. Y’know, being all about how you saved the entire race of dragons from extinction.”

“Quite,” said Descant.  “Glory is a fickle beast, one that many do not wish to share.  Much less with a…pony.”

“Hmm.”  I scratched my chin, and Whimsy shifted slightly in response to the stiffened air.  She’d always said that dragons looked down upon ponies, but she’d never found out why Descant appeared to lack such prejudices.  It was a little curious, admittedly, but I was more concerned with not getting on the wrong side of a draconic employer than finding out why he didn’t seem to hate me.  “Well,” I said, trying to get the feather to lay flat.  “As long as I don’t have to deal with too many dragons.”

“I can guarantee nothing.”

“Aww, come on,”  Whimsy turned around.  “Don’cha wanna see all the pretty dragons?  I bet they come in some really nifty colors.”

“No thanks,” I said bluntly, raising my voice above the wind.  “I’ve already seen a dragon breathing lightning.”

Whimsy seized up slightly, and I instantly knew why; was she or was she not supposed to know Descant’s element?

“Exactly,” she said after a barely noticeable pause.  “I’d love to see a dragon, like...I dunno, breathe spaghetti or something.”

Descant snorted, and my stomach dropped as we dipped briefly.  “I’m afraid that’s not quite how it works,” he said, once he had stabilized himself.

“What, you guys are only good for tomato sauce?” said Whimsy, completely unfazed.  “Lame.”

Silence fell between us as Descant breached the cloud layer’s underside, enveloping us in a thick mist.  The fading sunlight glinted off the puffy white peaks, and as we flew on, the first of Luna’s stars pierced the sunset’s swathes of pink and orange.  Faintly at first, but within minutes they were clearly visible against the ever darkening sky.  Yet the breathtaking sight of Luna’s veil being drawn over us was somewhat dampened by the blind unicorn sitting in front of me.

Whimsy turned around and punched me.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“I know that sigh,” she scolded, with a frowny mouth that forcibly reminded me of Holly’s.  “I thought we were done with this.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” I said darkly, watching the back of Descant’s head.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” he said hoarsely.

“Nothing,” we chorused innocently; he snorted in disbelief but inquired no further, tilting into a shallow dive.  I stared at the departing sun, imagining the twin sisters swapping shifts like any guards would; it was gone long before Descant took us back under the clouds, and we were plunged into a starless darkness.

“Wow,” said Whimsy, clearly awestruck; I strained my eyes, but I could see nothing in the darkness, and the only sounds were Descant’s heavy wingbeats and the rushing air.

“You dolt.”  Whimsy huffed, turned around, and pulled my goggles down.

Through the crystal lenses a forest was revealed, every tree a strange sort of stout, mushroom-looking mutant.  The transition from trunk to branches to leaves was completely seamless, and they filled every visible part of the valley.  Surrounding the forest was five small mountains, all varying sizes.

“Dracaena,” said Descant.

"Hm?”

“Dragon trees,” Whimsy hissed.

We circled around for a short while before Descant took us down to a ledge on the tallest mountain, landing with a quiet thud.  Whimsy immediately wriggled free of the spines and slid off; I followed after giving her a moment to get out of the way.  The snow was powdery, but did not melt at my touch.

“Rest,” said Descant, and I felt weariness resurface at the word.  “I will watch.”

“Rocks,” Whimsy grumbled, carving out a small fort for herself.  “I hate rocks.”  She looked oddly out of place lying on the ground instead of nestled in tree branches; I knew she wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but she seemed determined to not complain.  “Aren’t you tired?” she asked the dragon towering over her.

“Not enough.”  Descant swiveled one golden eye towards her, neck stiff.  She was already drifting off.

“If you say so,” she mumbled sleepily.  I glanced furtively at Descant, who was gazing skywards.  If it were anyone else, I’d’ve tied them down without a second thought, but the green dragon had long since proven his pacifism.  I found myself tired, but not sleepy.  Not yet.

“I need to speak to you,” I said, trying not to sound pushy.  It was imperative I get a few answers out of him, but the more freely they were given, the better.  A mangled answer would be just as bad as no answer.

“You are.”  He didn’t look down, but I pictured him smirking.  I just waited silently, and after a moment, he looked at me.  “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” I said bluntly.  “It needs to be in private.”

He nodded towards Whimsy’s sleeping form.  “She’s asleep.”

“And she’s blind,” I added.  “She may not see with her ears but I’ll be damned if they aren’t sharper than ours.”

“I see.”  He extended a leg towards me, and I climbed up.

“No funny business.”  I rapped a scale meaningfully, letting a tiny spark loose.  “These can’t protect you.”

Descant chose to rocket skyward rather than respond, and I couldn’t entirely blame him.  I wasn’t so much threatening him as I was warning him of my instinctual response to funny business, but it was an awfully puny dividing line.

“Speak.”  The dragon’s voice sliced right into the core of my thoughts, and it took me a moment to reorient myself.  Time for answers.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I said flatly.  He didn’t reply right away.

“I imagine,”  Descant said carefully.  “Exactly what you aren’t telling me.”

He was flying us in circles around the summit, just above the cloud ring.  Every revolution, when I knew Descant wasn’t looking, I fervently checked the ledge for the tiny dark spot that was Whimsy.

“I know that.”  I didn’t bother clarifying what I meant by that.  “But save the dragons is a pretty weak instruction.  You know how I work.”

“And I would accommodate you if I could.”  His tone left little room for suspicion.  “You must understand, some have dedicated their lives to performing those three words.  I am not one of them; I will not impede nature’s will.  I just want to know why.”  He paused.  “But I am certain you will meet some of those zealots.”

My brow crinkled at the word some.  The way he said it was the way one sounds when there’s imminent catastrophe.

“Explain.”

Descant again seemed reluctant to answer.  For three revolutions he did almost nothing but sigh wistfully, and more than once I saw him look up to where the stars lay hidden more than once.  If he was expecting me to talk, he had the wrong pony on his back.  If he was waiting for me to slide off and fly next to him, he still had the wrong pony on his back.

On the close of the third revolution, we were graced briefly by a shimmering moonbeam, cleanly piercing the cloud.  Descant seemed to draw strength from the silvery threads, for at long last, he spoke.

“Our descent...the dragon’s descent...it began at an inopportune time.  About four years ago, we noticed our fading bonds and discovered Lucifa had left us.”

He took another revolution in silence.

“About two decades before that, we suffered a...calamity, of sorts.  We found ourselves irreparably divided, gaping rifts torn between friends, families.  Dragons that once called each other close filled the gap with disgust and the refusal to understand.  These wounds have not healed.”  He swiveled around to share one brief look with me, and it spoke volumes.  What could possibly have been so bad, so horrific, so completely and utterly divisive, that even the doom of imminent extinction could not reunite them?

Descant sighed.  “You will find the truth behind the calamity in time.”

I said nothing, mind still churning through possibility after possibility of what the calamity could have been.  Images of devastating thunderstorms, abnormal volcanic eruptions, tidal waves, earthquakes darted past my vision as swiftly as a hummingbird comes and goes, all their causes unknown.  Perhaps a dragon had triggered something...?

“Three things,” he said, shunting my thoughts aside as he drifted into a spiral that took us back to the ledge.  “First, expect no help from dragons, especially not from me.  Second, do not dwell on the calamity.  Finding Lucifa comes first.  And third...”  He grimaced, bent down his snout, and plucked a small emerald dragonscale from his tail.  “You will need this.”

“What for?”

“You will know.”

I tucked the scale into my bags.  “Speaking of which, we need a safe phrase for my...condition.  So you know it’s her, and you know I’m...indisposed.”

Descant took his time mulling it over.  “‘The silver nimbus yields.’”

“That’ll do,” I said, memorizing the four words as he alighted on the snow without making a sound.  The phrase was innocuous enough, but Whimsy would never forgive me for entrusting her to someone besides myself; she hated being reminded that she still had maturing left to do.

I clambered down and scraped out a little niche for myself in the snow, next to the sleeping unicorn.  My exhaustion finally caught up, and I suddenly found it very difficult to keep my eyes open.  Whimsy did always have this odd tendency to lead others, even when she wasn’t trying to.  Part of her charm, I guess.

“G’night,” I mumbled to nobody in particular, not even bothering to take off my goggles.

Descant’s blurred outline appeared to have returned to watching the sky.  “Rest well.”